


Turn to Ash

by effystonem



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Vignette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-31
Updated: 2014-03-31
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:39:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 755
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1393090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/effystonem/pseuds/effystonem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock tells himself that he doesn't need John. It doesn't work.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Turn to Ash

01.

_Because you chose her._

_And not me._

Breathe in; breathe out. Eyes close, world dark, blanketed in silence. Ignore it. Control it.

Every day living faster and harder and more dangerously, more venom in his veins and more rough fucks with people who didn't know his name. Falling into the arms ~~and the beds and the alleyways and the bathrooms~~ of men at bars ~~and clubs and dens~~ to soothe the pain. Another day and another needle poking holes in his arm, another line of white powder on the table, another night of stars and numbness and mindless fucking. He was dealing, he told himself.  ~~he told himself he told himself he told himself~~

He was taking cases and solving them at twice his normal rate, brain on overdrive, frenzied and up all night working and taking pills to stay awake (not that he needed them). Sleep was not an option, eating was a ridiculous notion, anything that might remind him of John was out of the question. Now it was work and drugs and fucks and dangerous situations times ten. It was not bothering to slow down lest his own grief catch up with him.

_(what was he grieving? no one had died)_

_(not yet, anyway)_

_(he felt like he was dying)_

_(he was drowning)_

He rarely saw John. Why would he? He was happy with Mary, living a stable, normal life. Mary was pregnant. They were going to have a family, and that family wasn't going to include a dangerous, drug-addled Sherlock. Even if John wouldn't see to that, Sherlock would. He wasn't going to ruin John's life ~~again~~. He wasn't going to ruin John's daughter's life. 

02.

Sherlock was alive in his dreams, truly alive, really living, not just surviving. He was with John in his dreams, kissing, holding him close. He would feel John's breath in his ear again and hear John say his name. Hot, sweaty bodies moving against each other in a haze, hands intertwined, fingers running through hair. Sweet, white-hot pleasure that was nothing like the ecstasy from the drugs but somehow  _so_ much better. Breathing heavily and feeling weak and dizzy and happy, leaning against John. Feeling his chest rise and fall, hearing his heartbeat.

Which was precisely why Sherlock couldn't afford to sleep.

03.

_Sherlock could not get enough of those dreams._

04.

~~caring is not an advantage~~

~~i don't have friends~~

~~i don't have _friends_~~

~~_(Sherlock tells himself that he doesn't need John. It doesn't work.)_ ~~

05.

When John does come back to Baker Street, bags in hand ~~and under his eyes~~ , Sherlock doesn't fall into his arms, or make a confession, or even hug him. Sherlock is distant. He doesn't know what to say to John, any more, or how to act around him. He speaks minimally, not unkindly, but not with overwhelming warmth. John doesn't need Sherlock's closeness, though, he needs space. He's angry and hurt and upset and emotional, and what he needs is space. Sherlock can't give him any more space. He couldn't possibly be farther away.

06. 

He's been so wrong, this whole time.

_So, so wrong._

He realizes it with John's lips on his, with John's hands pulling at his collar, with John's growing urgency pressing up against Sherlock's hip.

John needs  _him,_ Sherlock realizes. John doesn't need space. John doesn't need Mary. John doesn't need time. John needs Sherlock.

And Sherlock needs John. So much it hurts.

07. 

Slowly, everything begins to be okay. John smiles more. Sherlock is clean, happy, focused, and in love. They have each other, now, crutches to get back on their feet and rebuild their lives. Things move at a snail's pace, with more casual touch every day, more intimate love every night, a more orderly life as time goes on. Sherlock has his life back, his mind back, and his John back. He doesn't have any idea what's going on in John's mind, and he doesn't ask, because he's happy. And John's happy. That's all he ever wanted.

And so life goes on, and for the first time in his life, Sherlock doesn't want things to be fast or quick or clever. He couldn't ask for anything more perfect than John. Soon, the scars on his arm will fade, and the urge will go away, and the overwhelming emotions will be easier to deal with. He counts on this.

Together, Sherlock will hold John, and they will stand above it all and watch the past burn away and turn to ash.


End file.
